


Please, Take this seriously.

by UnfortunateSpiral



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: 2020 Stanley Cup Playoffs, Injury Recovery, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:27:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26476438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnfortunateSpiral/pseuds/UnfortunateSpiral
Summary: Roope has to go on concussion protocol right when he feels his team needs him most. Miro just wants him to focus on his recovery.
Relationships: Miro Heiskanen/Roope Hintz
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	Please, Take this seriously.

**Author's Note:**

> AUTHORS NOTE:
> 
> While I am posting this now... I wrote it over the weekend, making some assumptions and predictions. Mainly, based on the info we had at the time, that Roope would have to go onto concussion protocol, and then also, because I'm a sports pessimist, that the Stars would lose today.
> 
> And hey, I LOVE TO BE PROVED WRONG. But that's the context here, if anyone is confused.
> 
> Also I know Roope is from Tampere and Miro is from Espoo, but they have said they hang out in Helsinki in the off season, and Roope has a place there. So, that's where I chose to reference as their Finnish "Home" :)

Miro dragged himself back into his hotel room, sighing deeply as he let the door slam shut behind him. He groaned and exhaled with the all too familiar frustration of watching a 3:1 series lead slip through his fingers, before finally lifting his head and noticing...he wasn't alone? Across the room, lounging on his bed occupying himself with a deck of cards was Roope. 

“What...are you doing here?” Miro asked. Roope had missed the game today due to being on mandatory concussion protocol, Miro knew he would be lounging around the hotel, but he didn't expect him to be passing the hours in his room. 

“I got bored.” Roope replied. It was his usual gravely smug tone, but there was a hint of panic, of surprise that maybe Miro wasn't necessarily expecting to see him after the game like he usually would. “...And your TV is bigger.” 

“You're not supposed to be looking at screens on concussion protocol.” Miro said curtly. 

“Yeah I know, I remembered eventually.” Roope smiled pitifully, flashing his cards. 

“Good.” Miro flopped down at the end of the bed, a few strands of his wet hair finding rest on Roope’s forearm. Roope caught himself rolling his eyes, looking down at his brunette companion. Miro never dried his hair after showering, it's like the kid is allergic to towels or something, he’ll just walk around, hair sopping wet, leaving a trail of droplets behind him wherever he goes. Roope had always been amazed, with finnish winters how they are, that this practice had never caused Miro to come down with pneumonia. A few moments of silence passed as Roope wandered, lost in his thoughts, eventually broken by Miro. 

“Were you watching?” He asked somberly. 

“No screens on concussion protocol.” Roope parroted back to him, flashing a little grin, trying to lift the mood. Miro flashed one back and raised a brow, wordlessly asking for the truth. 

“I watched it a bit, till my head started throbbing. Then...cards. I checked the score on my phone from time to time though…” 

“Well at least you didn't have to see that train wreck then…” Miro sighed. “We were a mess out there.” 

“The team might have been a mess tonight but I highly doubt you were Heisky” Roope said reaching down and brushing a strand of hair out of Miros eyes. “You’re always perfect, it's like...almost annoying how consistent you are in that regard.” Miro groaned and started to grumble before Roope cut him off, continuing his thought. 

“If only I could have been out there...If only...I told Bones I felt fine this morning!! I’m FINE!!” 

“NO.” Miro practically yelled, shooting up and facing Roope who stared at him wordless and startled. 

“You took a hit to the head, and you played for ten more minutes after. You have to take this seriously. Don't you remember what happened with... I don't want to lose you for two years Roope… or more. I don't know what i’d do.” He was visibly worked up, his cheeks starting to flush and his voice shaking slightly. Under different circumstances, Roope might have been moved. But he was already struggling at the beginning of the playoffs, and had finally been finding his groove on his new line with Kivi and Guri, only to be pulled and made to sit and twiddle his thumbs in the hotel. He didn't care about logic right now, he just wanted to be able play before his skills got cold again. Those frustrations mixed with the self pity Roope has spent the majority of the day wallowing in cause him to reply with a little venom. 

“Right. You guys don't want me out there. You wouldn't miss me anyway, I get it. I’m not performing.” 

Miro’s body flinched at the words, as if they had physically cut him. His expression twisted tight with distress

“Roope. We don't want you to play because we want you to be healthy...not because...anyone thinks you aren't pulling your weight. The team would rather lose you for six games now then lose you for a whole season later! And, all that aside, Off the ice every one of us cares about you and just want what's best for your health.” As Miro finished his response he saw Roope gearing up to push back and, his passion boiling over, cut him off. 

“And before you say I can't speak for them, fine, I’ll speak for me. You mean more to me than I can even fucking explain Roope. I don't know what i would...DO without you. Dallas without you...that's not Dallas. I would be so lost, so lonely. You're my best friend Roope, and you're my home, my own piece of Helsinki right here in North America. Without you... Who would I get Morning, Afternoon and evening coffee with? Who would roast me any time I try to dress cool, and apparently “fail miserably”, who would I prep for games with? And celebrate with after? Who’s going to answer the door when It's 4am and I just miss home? Who's going to hold my hand before OT and use their annoyingly stunning blue eyes and effortless grin to calm my nerves in an instant? Who would be the first person I hope to see each morning? And the last I see each night? Who --” And that was all Miro managed to get out. Because as he was speaking, Roope had slowly gone through every stage of emotion possible, and had landed on pure, sappy, disgusting, overwhelmed love. He lurched forward and grabbed Miro by the shirt, pulling him in for a passionate kiss. Miro leaned in, welcoming the advance, swept up in it. They pulled themselves close together, their faces hot and flushed, tongues dancing in each others mouths, breath lurching and shaking with emotion. They cared for each other so deeply, so passionately, they could barely contain it, they were trembling in it. Miro ran his fingers through Roopes hair, tucking it behind his ear and tracking his way down his neck. Roope tugged off Miro’s shirt and pulled away, just for a moment, to look. He feasted with his eyes, Miro was so beautiful he almost didn't want to touch him, he almost didn't feel worthy, he watched his chest rise and fall, and his skin prickle with the electricity of the moment. Finally he placed a firm hand on Miro’s left collarbone and drifted it down over his heart, and could feel it racing so fast it seemed like it might burst. He smiled, and Miro met his gaze and smiled back, Feeling his hand trembling as well, equally overwhelmed. And for a moment they just sat there, staring into each others eyes, smiling. Sure their bodies were practically on fire with energy, but it wasn't just because they wanted to enjoy each other. It was because they just... each loved the other so deeply, and were simply consumed by it. Finally, after what felt like a blissful eternity, Roope was the one to finally make a move, pushing Miro down onto the bed and crawling on top of him. But he moved too quickly, and his injury came for him, throwing him off balance and sending him reeling to the side. Miro caught him and helped him back up, before pushing him back into a sitting position. 

“Don't, move too quickly! We need to be careful with you...” Miro said with concern, wondering if they should even continue. 

“I'm fine! I just, just slipped!” Roope sputtered his face burning red hot, but from embarrassment now rather than excitement. He tried to sit back up but Miro placed a firm hand on his chest. 

“No. You're not. We need to make sure you don't worsen your concussion.” Miro replied with a tinge of frustration at having to repeat this yet again. You can show a horse its post care instructions infinite times, but you just can't make it literate. He thought to himself. 

“Let me...take care of you” He said softly, leaning in and kissing Roope so gently on the forehead he almost could have missed the lips brushing his skin was he not looking at Miro do it. Then he began to move, slowly and carefully, covering Roope in delicate kisses as we went. His cheek, his neck, his collar bones, his shoulders, his chest, his rib cage. He showed his admiration for every part of Roope as gingerly and lovingly as he knew how. For a moment he laid his head on Roope’s chest and reached up to cup his face gently in his hand, brushing his cheek softly with his pointer finger, and once again just staring into his pale blue eyes in love struck wonder. Then he pulled himself down, finding a sturdy stance over Roope’s hips, and unbuttoned his jeans. 

“Now just relax okay, let me make you feel better.” He smiled, wrapping his hand around Roope’s cock and beginning to stroke. Roope let out a shaky breath and leaned his head back into the overly stuffed hotel pillow. Once Miro had him half hard he leaned down and began to blow him, but in a way different than he normally did. Miro, like with most things he tried his hand at, was amazing at giving head. Any time he went down on you, he made you feel like a god being worshiped. In the sense that in that moment the only thing that matters is your pleasure, and he lives only to give that to you. Normally this would build into an intense, passionate rhythm. But tonight was...slower, more deliberate. Roope couldn't explain it. It still felt good as fuck, but it was almost like being held close under a blanket during a cold winter storm, rather than feeling like his body was on fire with ecstasy. Gentle was the theme of the evening it seemed, but all the same his hips still hitched when Miro’s tongue circled his tip, and his breathing still skipped when Miro took the full length of him, gagging ever so softly as he worked. He spent quite a while in the “warm blanket” state, he wasn't sure how long, his brain just kind of turned off as he floated in serene bliss of it, Until eventually, Miro finding ‘the rhythm’ pulled him out of it. His whole body shuddered as the hair on the back of his neck stood on end and his legs began to tremble. Fuckkk. That's it. God. Vittu. He reached his hand down, lacing his fingers between Miro’s chestnut locks, and gripping tight. He felt every nerve in his body spark and electrify as his pulse quickened, and his chest tightened. Finally, He came, with a deep gravelly moan that reverberated through the otherwise quiet bedroom. He absolutely lost himself in it, the ecstasy cascading off of him, he felt like it just kept going, wave after wave. Eventually, his breathing leveled and his vision began to return to him, as he lay there recovering, he felt Miro crawl up beside him, although it took him a while still to register, as he was stil “returning to his body” as Miro sometimes put it. But eventually he felt a familiar head resting on his shoulder. Doing his best to gather all his strength he began to lift his hand and reach for Miros waistband, but he was stopped by Miro wrapping him in a hug.

“No.” He said. “Tonight was about you, Just lay here with me now. Just hold me.” Roope sighed and moved his blocked hand to Miro’s chin, lifting it and kissing him gently before pulling him in close. Miro rested his head in the curve of Roope’s neck and exhaled happily. 

“We’ll win tomorrow, and then we’ll all have some time off, and we’ll have you back in no time for the finals. I just know it.” He said softly. Roope rolled his eyes at Miro’s optimism, but he also loved him for it. And by god when the kid set out to complete a goal, he usually found a way to make it happen. So maybe he was right after all.

“Sounds great.” He replied warmly. “Maybe I’ll go watch the next one in person. So I can see you out there at work without hurting my eyes, and so I can see whatever awful ass outfit you wear over to the rink.” He chuckled. He could feel Miro’s expression scrunch against his shoulder. 

“Not everyone has to look like a Tampere hype beast you know.” Miro retorted, although clearly through a smile. 

“No of course not, just those of us with fashion sense.” Roope quipped. And they both laughed, and laid there embracing, and in that moment it felt like everything was normal. No playoffs stress, no bubble weirdness, no injury, Just two idiots finding home in the hearts of the other 4,000 miles away from the one they once knew. And Roope sighed, Looking down at the man wrapped in his arms, and gave in. Fine, this was worth protecting. This was worth following the rules for, no matter how stupid they felt. Because Miro was right, Not only would Dallas without him not feel like Dallas, but Helsinki without Miro wouldn't feel like Helsinki anymore either. His home was right here in his arms.


End file.
